


Cold

by RoseCathy



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3763159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseCathy/pseuds/RoseCathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the <a href="http://starbuggers.livejournal.com/317.html">Red Dwarf Kink Meme</a> on LiveJournal.<br/>Prompt: “Rimmer wants sex. Lister is too cold. The compromise is sex with a scarf and earmuffs. And, just possibly, some fluffy socks.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

They hadn’t had the electric blanket the last time their heating had gone wonky, let alone considered sharing it — a sure advantage, as far as Rimmer was concerned. If the basic electrics held up and they (literally) stuck together, he wouldn’t become the universe’s most boring ice sculpture and Lister wouldn’t die of hypothermia. He only wished Lister would understand this and be appropriately romantic, or at least optimistic.

A grumpy “That tickles” was all the appreciation he got for pressing kisses to the top of Lister’s head. He tried the jocular approach next: “You’ve gone quite grey right here, Listy. Ooh, and here. Not that it’s a competition, you understand, but I’m still miles ahead of you.”

“Rimmer.” Lister’s tone was nearly as frosty as the porthole glass. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but shut up.”

Rimmer shut up. Instead of talking, he hummed quietly into the soft skin on the side of Lister’s face. The fact that he could do so was a source of frequent amazement to him, and Lister was usually patient about it. At the moment, though, the well of patience had obviously run out; Lister rolled over to glare at him, then reached for his earmuffs.

Unfortunately, the sight of Lister in earmuffs was too much for Rimmer. He couldn’t keep the silly grin off his face or stop himself commenting, “It’s ironic, isn’t it?”

Lister groaned and lifted one earmuff. “You what?”

“It’s ironic,” Rimmer repeated. “ _I_ used to put _you_ on report for being noisy.”

“So?”

“So, now the tables have turned, which falls under…” he broke off when he realised that Lister was staring at him. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

The kiss was a lovely surprise, as was Lister throwing the earmuffs aside and pushing him onto his back to crawl on top of him. He chuckled; it was bordering on absurd how often this sort of thing happened, and how he could move his hands and legs just so to draw a pleased grunt from Lister, then another, then several harsh breaths.

“Want you.” He was allowed to whisper that now as well, and to accompany his words with an on-point grope or two.

“Mm?”

“Let’s fuck.”

The kisses stopped. “Are you kidding?”

He blinked, confused. “No?”

Lister peered down at him as though examining him for concussion symptoms. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Rimmer,” he said slowly, “it’s like bloody Siberia in here. Look.” He puffed his cheeks and exhaled in the direction of the room. “Look, see? I can see my breath.”

Rimmer felt wounded; to him this was a matter of competence and pride. “I’m more than capable of keeping you warm.” He could visualise it now: He’d have to be on top, with a blanket or two on top of him, shielding as much of Lister from the air as possible. Or - actually, they could be spooned together underneath the bedding, and his hands would have to wander, using constant friction to maintain warmth. Among other things.

Lister snorted. “I’d have to keep my socks on. And I want my scarf as well.”

Rimmer smiled wistfully at the mental picture he’d been illustrating of Lister naked in his arms, skin ruddy from exertion, and filed it away for another time. “Okay.”

“And the earmuffs?”

“Yes, fine.”

“What about lube?”

“ _Ah._ Well.” He permitted himself an insufferably smug face before he retrieved a bottle which had been wedged between the mattress and the wall, all without dislodging the covers and letting cold air in. Conscientious, thorough — that was him in all areas of life. Except perhaps his exams, which he couldn’t care less about given that Lister was kissing him again as if to say _Well done, you_.

“It’s easy for you. You haven’t got a smegging clue how cold it is,” Lister grumbled even as he helped unbutton his long johns. “You don’t have to worry about it turning into an icicle and falling off.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t fall off.”

“You’d better had do. Scarf, please.”

Rimmer paused after he’d wound the knobbly scarf once around Lister’s neck. “You know, we could.” Another image was forming in his mind: Lister spread out, unable to use hands or fingernails except on his say-so. Glowering, frustrated, yet there would be a glint in those eyes, then they’d roll back into his head or flutter closed when…

“What?”

“This would go nicely around your arms, and we could secure the ends - ”

Lister sighed. “Maybe some other time, when I’m not on the verge of frostbite,” he said gently. “Earmuffs.”

Rimmer wondered how much sound could get through them (Wasn’t communication paramount in sex?) but he wasn’t going to interrupt the proceedings to ask. They needed to shift positions and rearrange the covers before frostbite really did set in.

He loved the feeling of Lister going boneless in his arms, loved how Lister let him rearrange his legs and rocked back eagerly onto probing fingers. He decided to let Lister take advantage of the stimulation for a bit and craned his neck to watch; sometimes he thought he could get off on just watching, gaze flitting between Lister’s hand and the way he gasped and bit his lip as he got himself hard.

Then a wool sock scratching along his bare leg somehow made Rimmer shiver with arousal and _smeg,_ he remembered why he needed this so badly. He practically lived for the moment Lister lost himself in pleasure. He saw the flip of the switch now: Lister’s eyes went dreamy, his mouth fell open as Rimmer slid deeper into him, and his hips began to move mindlessly, almost too much for Rimmer to keep up with the louder-than-usual demands of _fuck_ and _more_. An attempt to hold Lister still while he searched for a better angle earned him a full-body shudder and one end of the scarf flapping up and grazing his face, but he didn’t care; he tightened his grip and did as he was told.

It was a shame that Lister couldn’t hear his own less-than-coherent exclamations or the noise of them fucking. He couldn’t have heard the change in Rimmer’s breathing, either, and yet…“No, no, not yet,” he gasped, squeezing excruciatingly tight around Rimmer's cock. “Wait, wait for me, I still - ”

Rimmer managed it by a millisecond. After he’d buried his cries in the rough folds of the scarf, wishing his nose were nudging against silky flesh instead, he found himself being manhandled until his head was resting on Lister’s chest and his hair in Lister’s hands.

Judging from the heat on his cheek and scalp, Lister was not in any danger of hypothermia.


End file.
